Archangel (among the things that Crowley hates)
by Tricked Wings
Summary: Eternal life as the King of Hell isn't easy, and sometimes there is a certain person who seems to get pure pleasure out of making it even more not easy.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Alright, I know I haven't posted anything in practical forever, and I've been writing this nonsensical thing just because I can. Anyway, it's been sitting in my Google Docs forever and I just thought, "Why the hell not?"**

**Just a forewarning, it's not all that well organised, and I cannot make any promises about misspellings being absent. This is my writing at it's absolute laziest.**

**So, here you go. A story with my OTP. A story that probably no one but me will enjoy. Yes.**

* * *

No matter who one talks to, life is full of annoyances. Mosquitoes, outdoor barbeques where screaming children make up half the guests, and overall the heat of summer annoy pretty much everyone. However, Crowley's never really had to put up with those things. The things he is subjected to, however, are far worse, and they have a habit of making him beg to an absent god for the day the worst thing he has to deal with is a mosquito bite.

Crowley has got ninety-nine problems, with only about five of them centering around Hell. The other nintey-four? Well, they just happen to center around the absolute bane of Crowley's existence: Gabriel.

The problem is, the archangel — or whatever he's claiming to be these days — knows exactly what Crowley's buttons are and how to push them. The only thing that may be more problematic than that is the fact that Gabriel knows exactly where Crowley lives and the Enochian warding symbols that he has put up don't seem to help the issue. If anything, it appears to give the angel even more joy, due to the fact that Crowley hates having him in his house and he still manages to get in.

Today seems to be an entertaining day for Gabriel, even more so than usual. This is what worries Crowley as he spares a glance to see the angel lounging across the sofa in his office. The light from the window behind Crowley is shining through just right to hit the amber eyes as they return the glance.

"What's new with you, Cupcake?" Gabriel says, entirely over-enthusiastic considering that he's currently lazing around with a demon at the desk in front of him. Crowley frowns.

"I'm working," Crowley answers, looking back down to the papers in front of him. There are about twenty deals that are going to be collected tomorrow, he notes, and not one of them has used their deal to make anything out of themselves. Perfect, he thinks sarcastically.

"I can see that," Gabriel says. He groans and rolls over on the leather couch so that he is laying on his stomach, and looks at Crowley once again.

"Congratulations, Angel, you have eyes," Crowley remarks sarcastically as he shuffles through another five papers. Feeling Gabriel's eyes still on him, he looks up once again. "What the Hell do you want?" Crowley asks, because he wants nothing more than the lazy blob on his furniture to leave.

There's a gleam in Gabriel's eye, so Crowley braces himself. Whatever Gabriel's wanting to say, it cannot possibly be anything he would want to hear. Gabriel licks his lips and says, "I want you to..." He trails off, giving Crowley another reason to be annoyed with.

Crowley's only response is to roll his eyes. At least, that's his response until the angel zaps himself right behind him, and Crowley hears a whisper of, "Fuck me." His reaction then, of course, is to swat at Gabriel's head, which is now right beside his own.

He turns to see where the archangel has moved as he feels a rush of wings beside him. When he hears the rush across the room, it remains obvious that swatting at Gabriel isn't sufficient means to get rid of him.

Gabriel, however, has a shit-eating grin beaming on his face, making Crowley want to smack him upside the head even more than he already does. "Moron," Crowley says with a scowl, rolling in his office chair back up to his mahogany desk. He pulls a calligraphy pen angrily from its ink jar, and a droplet of ink falls from the point and onto the wood.

Before Crowley can even let a 'shit' out from under his breath, he hears Gabriel screech, "That is mahogany!" Crowley promptly looks up, and the only thing he's greeted with the continued grin that's planted on Gabriel's face, and he glares. "What?" Gabriel asks, voice overwhelmed with faux innocence.

"'What?'" Crowley repeats. "You know exactly what, Gabriel." He somewhat spits out the angel's name.

"You should say my name like that more often," Gabriel replies suggestively, licking his lips once again. "And do I? Do I really know what?" Gabriel pauses for a brief second, thinking. "Oh yeah. The 'what' is the fact that you are incredibly turned on and can't stand to look at me without popping a boner."

Crowley rolls his eyes. "Yes, of course, darling; seeing you arouses me beyond all comprehension." Crowley tries to ignore Gabriel's lascivious wink and puts his pen back without having used it.

"It does; you know it," Gabriel says casually, eyes now running over what he can see of Crowley over the desk. Crowley glances up yet again—he should probably stop doing that — and that earns him another wink from Gabriel. "You think about me all the time, Sugar. Don't think I don't know it."

"How about you try, 'I don't know what you're talking about'," Crowley suggests, death-glaring Gabriel. He is so done with the angel, and would like nothing more than for him to move his ass to Pluto.

"C'mon, quit being a coy cupcake. You totally want me spread out on your bed, moaning your name under you-"

Crowley cuts him off abruptly. "Actually, I totally want you to move your fat, candy-loving arse to Pluto. A dwarf-sized planet for a dwarf-sized angel," he says.

Gabriel clicks his tongue with faux disapproval. "You know I'm sensitive about that, Sunshine. You probably shouldn't have gone there." The angel shakes his head.

Crowley is about nine thousand percent done with the absolute ridiculousness of Gabriel's actions. He sighs exasperatedly and says, "Angel, I really do not feel like putting up with your nonsense today. Now if you will oh-so-kindly go away..."

Gabriel suddenly looks solemn and lowers his head. "I understand," he says quietly, shocking Crowley. Apparently, getting Gabriel to leave is easier than he expected.

"Good," he states, pulling the pen back out and scrawling something on the paper in front of him. However, after a few seconds go by and he still has yet to hear a rush of wings, Crowley cringingly looks up and is faced with the archangel still lounging on the stiff leather couch.

"What the bloody hell are you still doing here, Gabriel," Crowley asks sharply, not at all pleased.

Gabriel looks up from the couch that he has been studying, and Crowley sees the most aggravating smirk planted on his face. "Let's see..." Gabriel counts on his fingers — for what reason, Crowley has no idea. "Oh, right," the angel says with a nod. "You still have yet to fulfill my request."

Crowley gives him a poignant scowl and says sharply, "Your 'request' is not going to happen, darling. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever." He adds to his point by promptly drawing a line through the paper in front of him, only to realise that the paper was one that he needs. Damn angel.

The archangel gets up off the couch and holds out both his hands in front of him. "Woah, calm down there, Cupcake. If you don't want to sleep with me, you just had to say so." Crowley feels as though there should be something more in the angel's tone, something hurt, but he can't detect anything of the sort.

And just like that, Gabriel snaps his fingers and disappears, leaving Crowley alone and wondering if the angel really meant what he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Lazily written, probably OOC. Unbeta'd, like the usual.**

* * *

It's been two days, and Crowley still hasn't seen height nor hair of Gabriel. Until now, that is.

He's cooking cupcakes, and apparently that's the food of the archangels, as Gabriel seems to have the ability to smell them from halfway across the universe. He's hears the sudden rush of wings and turns, expecting maybe Castiel and the Hardy Boys to be trying to kill him once again. But, no; it's the honey-haired angel who appears to be keen on ruining Crowley's life each and every day, sans the past two.

"What'cha making?" Gabriel asks, voice as grating as always. Crowley doesn't exactly know what makes him unable to tolerate Gabriel's nonsense; he just knows he can't, and that he desperately wishes Gabriel would understand that and leave him be.

That's not Crowley's well-thought-out response, however, when he sighs and replies, "Cupcakes." He picks up the pan that the batter's already poured in and slides it into the oven.

Gabriel smirks cheekily. "A cupcake making cupcakes. Who knew?"

Crowley's rolls his eyes—he does way too much of that these days. Gabriel's going to cause his eyes to roll right out of his head. "Perhaps there's something I enjoy a great deal more than having to put up with you, such as eating cupcakes."

Gabriel gasps and puts his hand across his heart, so dramatically that Crowley feels another eyeroll is in order. "I never knew you were such a cannibal. I'm afraid that I can no longer be with you, Sugar."

Though Crowley highly doubts Gabriel's serious, he can always hope for the best. "I'm quite cannibalistic indeed. I also put sugar in the cupcakes, and what do you think the frosting's made out of?"

Gabriel opens his eyes to look at Crowley, and Crowley inwardly sighs. It's obvious now that Gabriel was indeed joking, and that getting rid of him will never be easy ever again.

"Y'know, there are many other uses for that frosting than just putting it on cupcakes." Gabriel waggles his eyebrows, and Crowley promptly chooses to ignore it.

"You're right," Crowley says condescendingly, as though he's speaking to a child. "You can also frost cakes and brownies with it."

Gabriel straightens his face, unamused. "I swear to Dad, you just can't take a hint, can you?" The angel frowns, though it looks more like he's pouting, and Crowley refuses to acknowledge how cute he looks.

Crowley also refuses to give Gabriel any response of the sort. He ignores the archangel and instead he stares intently at the egg timer he'd set next to the stove. The arrow on the time strip indicates that there's about fifteen and a half minutes left for the cakes to cook.

Gabriel makes a noise, and by noise, it means there's no way to describe it. Crowley, however, would say that it was something mixed between a whine and a groan. "Crowl-ey," Gabriel whines, placing emphasis on the last syllable of his name. When he continues to ignore Gabriel, the angel whines yet again. "Crowley, I'm bored."

He finally caves by an inch and says, "I don't see how that's my problem, Gabriel, nor what it has to do with me in any way, shape, or form." Crowley still doesn't look at Gabriel, however.

Narrowing his eyes, Gabriel hops up onto Crowley's counter, and Crowley swears he's only doing it because he knows how much it gets on his nerves. But when he starts swinging his feet and having them hit the lowers cupboards, Crowley is done.

"Gabriel," Crowley says warningly through clenched teeth. "Get. Off. My. Counters," he finishes, punctuating each word.

The angel smirks. Obviously whatever he is trying to do is working, and Crowley's playing right into his hands. Damn it. "No..." Gabriel replies, drawing out his words. "I don't think so, Sunshine."

Though he feels the urge to huff in frustration, Crowley ignores it and tries to keep as much of the frustration out of his voice as he possibly can. "Gabriel, get down," he commands.

"Make me," Gabriel chirps happily, way too pleased with the state he's put Crowley in.

"Oh, believe me, Angel, I will," Crowley responds sharply, sparing a glance for the timer. It nows says there are about thirteen minutes left. This is an eternity — having to deal with Gabriel is more Hell-ish than Hell.

Gabriel's face breaks into a grin. "I like the sound of that."

Narrowing his eyes, Crowley turns back to facing the angel. "Get off the damn counters, Gabriel, or so help me, I will..." Though, at the moment, Crowley cannot think of anything he could really do that Gabriel wouldn't twist around and enjoy one way or another. Even torture — Gabriel would probably make some remark about how 'kinky' it was, as Crowley could never really bring himself to severely hurt him.

And Gabriel knows that, the stupid bastard. "You'll what?" Gabriel asks innocently, as though he has no idea what Crowley would plan to do nor what he wants Crowley to do. Crowley's response is to just shake his head.

"You don't want to know," Crowley says.

"But I think I do," Gabriel replies. "Is it rough sex? 'Cause that's kinda what I've been aiming for this entire time."

Crowley sighs and runs a hand down his face. "No, it's not bloody sex, Gabriel," he says, with less exclamation that he intended to. "Now, just get off the counter and bugger off."

Gabriel ignores Crowley's command and conjures a lollipop from thin air. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna stay, so buck up, Buttercup."

Gabriel telling Crowley to do anything never really goes over very well, and Gabriel telling him to change his attitude about him hanging around is not the wisest thing for the angel to do, simply because it only suits to make his attitude worse. "No, you're not," Crowley snaps.

"Yeah, I am."

Crowley, full of frustration, walks over to the counter, so that he's leaning up the counter where it's free between Gabriel's knees. Gabriel looks down at him, now a few inches taller than he is. "No, you're not," Crowley says firmly, determined to get the angel out of his house and off his countertops.

Gabriel smirks and leans forward, making it so that now Crowley's face is only a handful of inches from his. Crowley's not quite sure what Gabriel's up to, but he stares him straight in the eye, hoping to intimidate him. "I'm not going anywhere, Cupcake," Gabriel says in a a hushed tone, darting his eyes down Crowley's face.

Crowley desperately wants to shift uncomfortably, but he cannot afford to let Gabriel see him acting out of discomfort. That'll just let the archangel know he's winning at whatever little game he's playing. Crowley can't have that. "Yes, you are," Crowley whispers back, equally hushed. "You are getting the hell off my counters and the hell out of my house, or so help me..."

Gabriel snaps his fingers and disappears once again. Crowley is thoroughly done with the angel, and tells himself that he hopes he never shows up ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Hot off the press, my headcanon nonsense, general laziness, the usual. **

* * *

The angel, however, does not stay away for very long.

Crowley's enjoying an evening in his house, alone; all he has is a glass of his favourite drink and his own personal copy of Mein Kampf. After all, sitting in front of a hearth with a warm fire burning while reading a good book is an amazing way to relax, and, right now, there's nothing Crowley needs more than to relax.

So he's reading, sipping at his craig, and generally being comfortable; that is, before the angel decides to pop up and ruin it all.

There's a dreadful rush of wings to Crowley's right, and he mentally cringes. It's gotten to the point that he can sense Gabriel's entrances, and that's not a skill he'd ever hoped to one day acquire.

"Hey, Crowles!" The archangel greets. Gabriel always seems to be overly-excited and hyped up on caffeine. The way Crowley sees it is that he is millions of years old and has almost no right to act that way. Almost.

"Hello," Crowley replies begrudingly. He partially hates himself for dignifying Gabriel with a response, but it's not like he could just sit there and ignore him. It's proven already that ignoring him does not work. It only suffices to make him even more annoying.

Gabriel picks himself up off the loveseat that he threw himself onto when he appeared seconds ago. He glances at the cover of Crowley's book, and then to Crowley. "Good read?" he asks, smirking.

Crowley sighs. He never signed up for an angel being obsessed with him; he really didn't. "Yes, I suppose so." And he goes back to reading his book like he wants to.

"You 'suppose so'?" Gabriel asks, using air quotations. "Listen, Cupcake, there are way better thing to do with this night than read a book written by some supremist who committed mass genocide on people he didn't deem worthy or whatever."

Crowley smirks and looks up from his book once again. "Not unlike you, dearest," he says simply.

Gabriel thinks about it for a moment and shrugs. "True," he replies.

Crowley takes that as Gabriel's resolve and the end to a pointless conversation. The angel, however, continues to stand right in between Crowley and the fireplace, successfully blocking his some of his light. "Would you move your arse?" Crowley finally says, a little more snappy than he intends.

"Hmm," Gabriel hums, obviously trying to put on an act of thinking about it. "Nope."  
Crowley narrows his eyes and death glares Gabriel, though it doesn't appear to have much of an effect. So he squints and continues reading, like any sensible person would do.

However, Gabriel never takes being ignored very well, and this case is not exempt. He starts clicking his tongue in an extraordinarily annoying fashion, as it seemingly projects all over the den. After only a couple of minutes, Crowley simply cannot stand the sound any longer. "Would you knock it off?" he snaps, giving the angel a sharp look over his book.

"No can do."

"Why not?"

"Because," Gabriel replies, and takes in a deep breath like he's about to give a long answer, "I'm bored."

"Then go away," Crowley says. He would say he was nearly exasperated, but that isn't quite right. He is irritated, tired, and just done with archangels for a good century. "Go to Disneyland," he supplies, just wanting to get back to his book already.

"Nope," Gabriel says promptly. "I don't wanna. There's not enough deviancy."

Crowley rolls his eyes. "Like there's a ton of deviancy happening here," he says sarcastically. "Yes, interrupting my book. You're a full-fledged deviant, darling."

"Oh, there's plenty of deviancy going on here, Sunshine," Gabriel responds with a wink. "You just can't see it."

Crowley sighs. "And why's that?" he asks, uninterested.

"'Cause it's all in my brain." Gabriel moves back to the loveseat, streching out across it and laying on his stomach. He puts his chin on his hands and watches Crowley, causing the demon to become a tad more than slightly uncomfortable.

Crowley's unsure of whether it would be more effective to ignore Gabriel or amuse him. Ignoring hasn't worked in the past, including the past however long Gabriel's been bothering him this evening, but amusing him might not be any better of an idea. He settles on simply giving the reply, "I don't care."

"That's what you say," Gabriel says, eyes still intently watching Crowley. "But you know what?"

"What?"

Gabriel smirks yet again. "Demons lie."

And Crowley does not know how to reply to that. Gabriel has got a point; demons do lie. About everything. And dammit, the angel does not need to be making Crowley question his stance on anything right now. Especially when it comes to whatever Gabriel wants. "And your point is...?" Crowley finally says, now setting his book aside. It's quite clear that he's not going to get any more reading done, as once Gabriel pops up in his house, he won't probably won't be leaving any time soon.

Gabriel scoffs. "Well, my point is that you don't tell the truth about anything."

Crowley understood that from when Gabriel first stated that demons lie; he was asking what Gabriel's motive was behind stating such. "That's obvious," Crowley says, slightly annoyed.

"Then why'd you ask?" Gabriel retorts, much too cheery for how annoyed he's made Crowley.

Crowley does not dignify the angel with a response. Rather, he takes another sip from his drink and sets it down on the table beside him.

Gabriel continues watching Crowley intently, and he feels as though he's under a microscope. There are so many things not right with how Gabriel's staring at him, like he's undressing him with his stare. Though he probably is, knowing what Gabriel's had to say in the past.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Crowley asks.

"Yep," Gabriel answers, and, from what Crowley can tell, he's entirely over-enthusiastic.

"And what might that be?" Crowley adds, hoping that fulfilling Gabriel's wishes will get the angel to leave the premises.

"Oh, I'm sure you know, Cupcake," Gabriel says with a wink.

"Do I now?" Of course Crowley knows. He simply wants to prolong the inevitable endless requests that Gabriel is sure to voice. "Indulge me."

Smirking, Gabriel says, "That's ironic, 'cause I was planning on having you indulge me. Erotically."

Crowley rolls his eyes. There's what he's been waiting for. He guessed at the very beginning of this conversation that was what Gabriel was due to ask him. After all, it seems that Gabriel's only goal at the moment is to have a tumble in Crowley's sheets.

"Aw, c'mon Crowles," Gabriel says, tilting his head slightly to the side in an ever aggravating manner. "Don't be like that."

He resists from rolling his eyes once again, but definitely not because of Gabriel. "Why are you so damn keen on us having a shag?"

"Because it'd be hotter than Hell," Gabriel states, amused by his own pun. "So if that gives you any kind of idea..."

"Oh, believe me," Crowley replies, taking a drink from his nearly empty glass. "I have plenty of ideas."

He picks up on Gabriel freezing for a minute — at the very least, the angel stops breathing for a millisecond. However, Gabriel's smoothness quickly returns. "Oh really?" Gabriel says, trying to regain control of the situation. It's clear that he's now losing his cool, and that the control of the conversation is rapidly transferring to Crowley.

"Oh, yes, darling," Crowley says, taking his turn to give Gabriel a heated stare. If the angel wants to play this game, then he's going to have to play Crowley's way.

And Gabriel is at a loss for what to say next under Crowley's gaze. He obviously wasn't expecting Crowley to get sick of being on the defensive and switch positions. "I bet you don't," Gabriel responds, attempting to keep a light, laughing tone to his voice.

Crowley intensifies his gaze, eyes running over Gabriel. He can see the angel slightly squirming; he definitely hadn't counted on this. "Are the rumours true?" Crowley says, his voice lowered.

"What rumours?" Gabriel says, clearly faking his careless tone.

"About angels' wings." And Crowley can tell from the way Gabriel suddenly reacts that the rumours are indeed true, as Gabriel actually flushes. He flushes faintly, but he still flushes nonetheless. And now Crowley is starting to enjoy this game more than ever.

Of course, Gabriel is starting to subconsciously regret ever starting this thing with Crowley. Originally it was extra fun, because it was just annoying to the demon. However, now Gabriel's starting to realise that he might have gotten himself in over his head. "Psh, no."

Crowley smirks. "Are you sure about that, love? Because your face says something entirely different."


End file.
